John and the Cat
by writtenwithfeathers
Summary: John goes out on errands when he gets a text from Sherlock to come home. A cat has followed Sherlock and he doesn't know how to take care of it.*I do not own any of the characters*(Except Oscar)
1. Chapter 1: John and the cat

John walked at a quick pace, trying his hardest to get home. John had received a text that read "I need you, -SH." and whether or not this was an immediate need or not, John wanted to get back. He was out running errands and he was at his last stop for milk when he got the text. He placed the milk back into the large refrigerator at the market, and headed out the store.

John rounded the corner of Baker St. and saw the door. He began to half jog to it, the items he held in a large brown paper bag, jumped up and down with him. When he reached it, he let himself in.

He ran up the stairs, skipping every other step, and when he finally got up to the living area he heard a meow.

"John," Sherlock said with his deep voice.

"Is that a cat?" John said surprised.

Sherlock stood up from his chair, and put on a face that said of course. Then he said, "Obviously."

"Why is there a cat in our living area?" John asked as he placed the bag down on their kitchen table along with all the other items that didn't belong on a kitchen table.

"It followed me," Sherlock said as he walked over to the bag.

John looked at Sherlock, as he walked around the room, paying no attention to what was going on around him. John turned his attention to the cat that was sitting on the floor it was next to his chair.

It was a small kitten, about 6 months old with one side of its face brown, the other black, and its mouth white. It trotted toward John, lifting its paws off the ground more then was needed, and meowed.

John looked at it with a bewildered face. He watched as it stopped at his feet, and sat, anxiously waiting for attention from him. John knelt down and placed his hand on top of the cats head. It leaned into his hand, purring. It stood back up and walked forward, pushing all its weight into John's hand. John pet the cat then turned back toward Sherlock, his hand still on the cat.

"It's actually quite adorable, not like that hairless cat," John said with a smile. He stopped petting it and stood up. He walked toward Sherlock with the kitten trailing behind him, meowing for attention.

"Yes, it would seem," Sherlock said as he opened the refrigerator. He took out a can of tomatoes and presented it to John, "Would it eat this?"

John looked at him with disgust and curiosity. Did he really not know what kittens ate? John shook his head, then turned his attention back to the cat that continued to meow. He knelt down and scooped it up. He cradled it in his arms bouncing up and down as he tried to comfort it. He looked at it caringly and used his free hand to pet the top of its head, every now and then, scratching between its ears.

Sherlock watched as John cooed at the small animal. He was amazed at how taken in John had been by the kitten. He could have sworn John didn't like cats. But the longer he watched John and the cat, the more he realized that John had taken a liking toward it. He decided that instead of getting rid of it, he would let John keep it.

"So what do cats eat?" Sherlock said. He walked over to his stiff black chair, and sat.

"Well, it's a kitten so it probably drinks…" John stopped, realizing what he needed was the only item he hadn't bought.

"Milk," Sherlock and John said simultaneously.


	2. Chapter 2: Oscar

"You know, it would be nice if you went to get the milk. Just once… that's all I'm asking," John said as he entered the flat. He walked over to the fridge and placed the milk inside.

"I'm far too busy," Sherlock said. He was sitting down with his violin in hand, plucking each string with harmonic rhythm.

The cat sat across from him in John's chair, tilting its head with each sound.

"How long has the cat been doing that?" John asked.

"Since I started playing," Sherlock said, staring at the cats reaction as he continued to play, "He likes it."

"He's actually she," John said. He walked behind Sherlock and watched the cat.

"Oh, well I named him Oscar."

"Why'd you name it Oscar?" John asked squinting his eyes.

Sherlock didn't answer. He continued to pluck at the violin, his eyes never looking away from the cat.

"Uhm… what do you think about, Angie?" John asked.

Sherlock didn't answer.

"Karen? Lisa, Lizzy, Ann, Kitty, Mittens? Come on Sherlock, help me out here."

Sherlock again, didn't answer. He stayed quiet, his fingers plucking one string after the other.

"I actually quite like the name Oscar," John said after a couple of seconds.

Sherlock smiled and got up, handing his violin to John.

"I knew you'd come around to it," Sherlock said.

John looked at Sherlock in disbelief. He placed the violin on Sherlock's chair and watched as Sherlock went over to the cat and pet the top of its head, it leaned into the touch.

"He's hungry," Sherlock said. "Could you get the milk?"

"I just bought the milk, you get it."

"John," Sherlock said, turning just slightly to look at him. He tilted his head and pouted his lips. "Please."

"What, I… you are so lazy, Sherlock," John said to himself as he went over to the fridge and poured the milk into a small bowl. He went over and placed it on the floor.

"Thank you," Sherlock said, surprising John. John usually had to remind him to say thank you.

"You're welcome."

The cat walked over to the bowl and began to drink. Sherlock smiled at it, then turned to John.

"And she's a he," Sherlock announced.

"But it's a calico cat… its very rare for it to.."

"Well Oscar is very rare then. Also very smart. Should be a great companion," Sherlock said.

"Guess you won't be needing me anymore," John said jokingly.

Sherlock turned around, his expression showing concern.

"No, I only need the cat for when you've gone out." Sherlock said, he placed his hand on John's shoulder, looked him in the eyes, then walked away.

"Good," John nodded.

* * *

Author's note: Next ch. will contain a collection of events taken place with Sherlock and Oscar, while John is gone.


	3. Chapter 3: Don't leave them alone

John had been gone for 30 minutes now, and Oscar was doing everything he could to try and get Sherlock's attention. He jumped on top of Sherlock's lap, only to be pushed off. He rubbed his face on his leg, only to be kicked away, and he meowed constantly, not once being looked at. Oscar got tired and jumped up onto John's chair and sat there, staring at Sherlock.

It had been two months since Oscar had found them, and John had taken on the role of care taker. He learned what foods were best for kittens, how to train him to use the litter box, and even let him sleep in his bed with him. Oscar hadn't been alone with Sherlock since that first day, and no matter how hard Oscar tried to get close to Sherlock, nothing worked.

"John," Sherlock yelled, "John, I'm bored!"

The cat meowed in response.

Sherlock looked down at the cat, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Ohh, yes. Hello Oscar," he said, "Maybe you can help me with my boredom."

Again the cat meowed. Sherlock stood from his leather chair, smiled down at the cat who was watching him intently and went over to the kitchen. He looked at the various experiments he had and went to work. Oscar followed him in and sat on top of the table watching as Sherlock mixed chemicals together.

An hour later Sherlock had a small tube of mixed chemicals. He lifted it to eye level, examining it, a smile forming on his face. He let out a wail of excitement and grabbed Oscar who had fallen asleep on the table.

Sherlock walked over to his leather chair, Oscar between his forearm and waste, looking around confused and tired.

"Okay, we can do this the easy way or the hard way," Sherlock said kneeling down and placing the cat on his chair.

He placed his thumb and index finger on both sides of Oscar's mouth, trying to force it open, the vile close to its mouth. Oscar shook his head and Sherlock lost grip.

"I don't have four hands so please just stand still," Sherlock said, grabbing Oscar's mouth again.

The cat meowed and attempted to run away but was stopped. Sherlock grabbed Oscar and wrapped his arm around him. He turned around and sat on the chair.

"Hard way it is," Sherlock said placing Oscar on his back and placing his elbows on both sides of Oscar and his forearms on his chest. Oscar meowed and attempted to claw at Sherlock, but it was too late. While Oscar was meowing, Sherlock had slipped the tube into his mouth and tipped the contents into Oscar's mouth.

He let go of Oscar who ran away, shaking his head and coughing, some of the liquid coming out, but most of it was already in his stomach.

"What is going on?" John said standing at the door.

"Oh John, how was your lunch date?" Sherlock asked avoiding the topic.

"What did you do to Oscar?" John asked going to the cat.

Oscar was shaking, his hair puffed out, and his claws out. John grabbed him and cradled him in his arms.

"What did you do? He's scared to death!"

"He hasn't died yet," Sherlock said under his breath.

"What?" John asked not looking up at Sherlock. Oscar's eyes were glazing over and John could feel his racing heart slowing down… too quickly.

"What did you give Oscar?" John yelled at Sherlock.

"Nothing,"

"This isn't nothing, Sherlock!"

Sherlock sighed and stood up grabbing another tube and a needle. He filled the needle and was about to stab Oscar with it when John turned away from him, anger and confusion strewed across his face.

"It'll help," Sherlock said impatiently.

John loosened his grip on the now sleeping cat's body. Sherlock placed the needle slowly into the cat's neck.

"There," he said a bit annoyed.

Oscar woke up and jumped out of John's hands and ran to his scratching post, hitting the pink ball that was connected by a spring on top of it.

"What did you give Oscar?" John said sternly.

"I just gave him reparatory infection symptoms."

"Wha…. Why?"

"Because I found a cure and needed to test it."

"On my cat?" John said, motioning to Oscar who was still playing with the scratching post.

"Yes, where else am I going to get a cat?"

"Unbelievable,"

"What? Not good?"

"No Sherlock, not good. Not…. Not good at all."

"Sorry,"

John looked at Sherlock and shook his head.

"Don't… don't experiment on Oscar anymore."

"But,"

"Don't."

Sherlock smiled and nodded.

"Oh and there was some catnip in there so…" Sherlock said leaning forward with a smile then walked away.

John sighed.


	4. Chapter 4:He Knows

John walked up the stairs to his flat slowly. His shoulders were slumped over and he sighed as he entered the room.

Sherlock continued to play his violin paying no mind to John who was sulking about his now ex-girlfriend. John fell on his back onto the long couch that was against the wall papered wall with a smiley face on it. He sighed again.

Oscar jumped up onto the couch and laid down on his chest.

"Hello Oscar," John said petting Oscar's face.

He meowed back, his claws digging into John's jumper as he got comfortable on John's chest.

John sighed again, Oscar meowed, and John scratched between his ears.

"You care don't you," John said to Oscar.

"Of course I do," Sherlock responded.

"I wasn't talking to you," John said.

"No, I know, you were talking to a cat that won't respond back to you. I was just trying to fix the void between you and Oscar." Sherlock said, then began playing the violin again.

"Oscar responds," John said twisting his body up so he could look at Sherlock but not enough to make Oscar move.

Sherlock laughed then continued with his tune.

"Watch," John said returning his attention to Oscar. "Are you watching Sherlock?"

"Of course," Sherlock said still playing.

"Do you care about me, Oscar?"

Oscar meowed, and John smiled then looked back up at Sherlock who seemed unimpressed.

"Did you see that?"

"Yes, he meowed. He meows when I play the violin." Sherlock said.

"Then stop playing," John yelled.

He turned back and looked at Oscar again, who was tilting his head.

"You love me, don't you , Oscar," John said like he was talking to a baby. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

Again Oscar meowed.

"You see, he does care, and he does respond," John said

"How can he care? He has no idea what you're talking about," Sherlock said walking over to them.

"Yes he does. You said it yourself. He is very smart, very unusual for a cat," John said petting a purring Oscar.

"It doesn't mean he understands that you're sad because your girlfriend broke it off with you," Sherlock said.

"Who says she broke it off with me," John said.

Sherlock didn't say anything. He just looked at John with a "do you know who I am" look.

"Okay, that's beside the point. Oscar doesn't care why I'm sad, the thing that matters is that he knows I'm sad."

"Or maybe he just wants attention?"

"Or maybe he genuinely cares, unlike some people."

It got quiet and John turned his attention back to Oscar who was slowly falling asleep.

"Just because I choose to be detached doesn't mean I don't care," Sherlock said then exited the room.

Oscar woke up and jumped off John's chest, following Sherlock.

* * *

**Authors note: hope you enjoyed this update. review if you would like.**


	5. Chapter 5: Mycroft and Letters

John walked out onto Baker St. and saw a black car parked outside. He sighed, wishing that he had scheduled his date with a girl he had met at the pub a day sooner. Mycroft exited the vehicle and looked at John as his hello.

"New case?" John asked.

"Now why would you assume that?" Mycroft said sarcastically.

"I've got to run. Can you tell Sherlock not to call, I don't want him to ruin this date too," John said as the cab pulled up.

"I'll tell him that you want to see other people now," Mycroft joked.

"Yeah, good," John said and entered the cab.

Mycroft entered the flat and took the seat that normally belonged to John.

Miss Hudson entered the room and smiled at Mycroft.

"Got a new case for Sherlock?" She asked.

"Yes, now where is he? Could you call him down?" Mycroft asked. He sat up in his chair and looked around.

"Sherlock," Miss Hudson yelled, "Your brother is here!"

No response.

"Has he been locked away in his room aga- a-choo" Mycroft sneezed, "I'm sorry."

He reached into his pocket and grabbed a handkerchief.

"It's fine. Now where is that Sherlock. SHERLOCK," She tried again.

The sound of a small bell came from Sherlock's room and got louder and closer to the living area. Mycroft looked around confused then fixed his eyes on the calico cat. He grabbed his handkerchief and placed it against his nose.

"Why is there a cat?" Mycroft asked.

"Ohh, well that's just Oscar. They've had him for a while now," Miss Hudson said. She bent down and grabbed Oscar, the bell on his collar ringing.

"What's this?" She said. She grabbed a piece of paper that was stuffed into Oscar's collar, "Oh well its for you, Mycroft."

Mycroft made an audible sigh and grabbed the paper. He unfolded it. In messy hand writing was a note from Sherlock.

_I'll take the case. Now leave me alone. _

_-SH_

"Is texting not efficient now a days. He knows I'm allergic to ca…a-choo," He blew his nose into the napkin.

Oscar wiggled in Miss Hudson's arms. She let him go and he fell to the floor landing lightly. He trotted back to Sherlock's room.

"I have to go. Give this to Sherlock," He took out a packet of papers describing the case and handed it to Miss Hudson, his other hand still holding the napkin against his nose.

Mycroft heard the jingle of the bell again and tried to rush out, he hated the feeling of sneezing.

Oscar had another note on his collar. Miss Hudson grabbed it and tried to call out to Mycroft but he was already down the stairs.

He was half way to the car when Miss Hudson caught him.

"Mycroft, another letter," She said, leaning out the door that had the 221B sign on it.

He rolled his eyes and went back to the door. He grabbed the letter and went to his car. He sat, gave the directions to his driver, and opened the note.

_This is why I didn't text_

_-SH_

"My patients is wearing thin with you," Mycroft whispered angrily at the paper. He sneezed again.

"I'm sorry sir. Should I drive faster." His driver asked.

"I… ah…yes," he pinched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb.

John got back to flat late at night, his date having gone well.

"Oscar," He called out.

Oscar came up, the familiar sound of the bell, calming John. He picked up Oscar, cooing at him. He petted him, his hand sliding down Oscars neck and stopping at a slip of paper.

"What…what has Sherlock done now?" He slid the paper out from his collar.

He sat and placed Oscar on his lap. Oscar jumped off his lap when Sherlock entered the room. He looked up at him then back at the note.

Sherlock sat across from him, Oscar sitting on his lap, purring and rubbing his face into Sherlock's hand.

John opened the note and read it.

_Oscar is of more use to me then he is to you. Therefore Oscar is mine. _

_-SH_

"You're an idiot."


	6. Chapter 6: You Okay?

John awoke to the sound of glass breaking. He sat up in his bed, his initial thought being that Sherlock was up to no good. He just hoped Oscar was okay, although he was sure he was.

Over the last couple of weeks Oscar had been staying near Sherlock while he did his experiments and pulled his all nighters. Then, on those rare occasions, when he did sleep Oscar would be right beside him. John didn't want to admit it, but he was jealous. When he had first met Oscar he had adored him at first sight, and it seemed as though the cat had liked him too. He raised him, and for about 3 months, Oscar was John's. He didn't understand how in a short time he had gone from his to Sherlock's. Sherlock still didn't take the time to put out the food or clean the litter box, but the cat never seemed to leave his side, except for every once in a while, and he acted as his personal messenger from Sherlock to Mycroft, and sometimes to John.

John noticed that Sherlock only ever used Oscar as his personal messenger to him when John had had a particularly bad day. It was very rare, but it was done enough times for John to catch on that Sherlock was sending Oscar for comfort. He would always get a letter saying something along the lines of "new case, we start in the morning" or "text this number this _" and from there Oscar would stay with him, as his comfort. John found peace in the sound of Oscar's purring.

Although John was jealous of this new bond that Oscar and Sherlock were forming, he knew that it was more than just Oscar liking Sherlock more. Oscar had this knack of being with people who didn't feel happy. He provided himself as an aid for their sadness, and stayed by them until he thought they were happy. This lead John to believe that Sherlock may not be particularly happy.

John got up from his bed finally after a few minutes of preparing himself for what he was to encounter. He slipped on some slippers, put on his robe and walked to the kitchen.

Sherlock was paying no mind to the broken flask that had fallen to the floor and shattered. John saw Oscar sitting on the table and was relieved that he didn't step into any of the glass.

"Sherlock?" John said, "Are you gonna clean up the glass?"

"I'll have Miss Hudson do it," Sherlock said.

Sherlock looked into his microscope for a couple of seconds then looked away with excitement.

"Is that a blood sample?" John asked.

"Yes,"

"You have a new case?"

"No,"

"Then what's that for? Just experimenting?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. He grabbed the small clear sample.

John went over to Oscar and pet the top of his head. Oscar purred and stood up to lean into John's hand. Oscar lifted up his front left paw and when he walked forward he hopped to avoid putting pressure on it.

John took notice right away. He picked Oscar up and lifted his paw up to examine it. It was wrapped in a small bandage.

"Sherlock?" John looked at Oscar's paw. At first he thought he stepped in the glass but then, "Please don't tell me that's Oscar's blood."

"Of course it is," Sherlock stated.

"What did I tell you about experimenting on Oscar?" John was trying not to yell at him.

"Oh don't start. Oscar will be fine. I was just curious about his DNA." Sherlock continued to study Oscar's blood.

"What do you mean?" John was unconsciously swaying back and forth, cradling Oscar.

"Do you remember when you thought Oscar was a girl? You said it was because he was calico. All calico cats being female, but, on very rare occasions, they can be male. Very, very rare occasions," Sherlock said.

"And so you thought taking some of Oscar's blood would be fun?" John said irately.

"Well," Sherlock thought about it, "Yes."

John thought about going off on Sherlock but what was done was done. Oscar wasn't hurt he just was irritated by the bandage. He let his curiosity get the best of him.

"What did you find?" He asked.

"Well like I had read about it, male calico's have two x chromosomes and one y," He said, "This seems to prove it," he motioned to the blood.

"Ohh, well. I guess that makes sense. But… shouldn't that mess with his brain or-"

"No. He's perfectly fine in that aspect."

"What aspect is he not fine in?" John didn't know if he wanted to know. He was very fond of Oscar. He just hoped this two x chromosomes didn't mean he had a shorter life span.

"He's sterile," Sherlock said.

John's mind went from experiments to something all together wrong. He cringed at the thought.

"What?" Sherlock took notice of John's disgusted face.

"You didn't…"

"Oh god, no," Sherlock scrunched up his nose, his face showing disgust now.

"Sorry, I just,"

"No, I would never. I read up on it," Sherlock turned away from John and back to his experiment.

"Ohh my," Miss Hudson said when she entered their flat, "Sherlock, the mess you've made."

She grabbed a broom and began the sweep up the glass.

John looked down at Oscar to find he had fallen asleep. He smiled and resisted the urge to squeeze him tighter against his chest.

"You okay, Sherlock?" John said when Miss Hudson finished sweeping and left the flat.

"What?" Sherlock said with surprise and confusion, two looks not usually found on his face.

"You alright? Like… feeling wise?"

Sherlock snorted.

"I'm just wondering, you know cause, Oscar's been spending a lot of time with you," John continued, "I can't tell what you're feeling Sherlock, but I know that whenever I'm feeling bad Oscar's there. Has anything happened?" John's words continued although his mind was telling him to stop.

"I'm fine. Oscar just enjoys my company." John could see him lie.

"Okay," John said. He left it alone.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks for all of the follows, favorites, and reviews. You're the reason this story continues. That and the fact that I still have more ideas, but those ideas would be nothing if no one enjoyed them._

_I hope you enjoyed the update. Still more to come. _


	7. Chapter 7:missing

John leaned his head against the cold window of the cab. His eyes were closed and he was slowly drifting off the sleep. They had finally solved their latest case and he was running on only 2 hours of sleep. Sherlock was looking out the window, watching the world pass in a blur with a smile on his face. He was going over the case in his head, and how the criminal had been clever, ohh so clever. He enjoyed a good case, and he had gotten just that. The cab pulled in front of 221B and Sherlock nudge John to wake up. John lifted his head off the window; the left side of his forehead was red from resting on the glass. Sherlock paid the cabby and they proceeded to enter their flat. John was walking groggily behind Sherlock, dragging his feet and wishing he was already lying down on his bed. His soft, comfortable…

"ooof," John let out when he bumped into Sherlock, who had suddenly stopped walking, "What's this? Sherlock, please, I'm exha-"

"Shut up," Sherlock interrupted him.

"Wha-"

"Shhhh," Sherlock placed one finger on his lips and his other hand was waving in the air toward John, "Do you hear that?" He perked up all other motions stopped.

John listened, squinting his eyes as if it would somehow increase his ability to hear. He looked around when he couldn't hear anything.

"Nope, nothing. Sherlock may I-"

"Oscar's gone," Sherlock said interrupting John again.

This certainly woke John up.

They ran up the stairs and their door was wide open. Sherlock's leather chair was turned on its side, books were on the floor, and paper were thrown and ripped like confetti across the entire flat.

"Oh God, no," John said when he saw the ruined flat. He stood at the frame of the door in shock.

Sherlock was looking around the flat naming different items that were stolen or broken, and when he finally named off ten items he stopped and looked at John who was staring at the flat, unmoving.

"John? Nothing to substantial is gone. Both our laptops, your stack of saved money and a few other trinkets are gone, but nothing irreplaceable is missing. Other than…" He stopped.

"Oscar's gone," It was both a statement and a question.

Sherlock shook his head and walked around the flat examining it.

"Go get Miss Hudson. This happened about an hour ago, she would have already gone to bed," Sherlock said, and John went down to get her.

When he got back, with Miss Hudson who was in her nighty, rubbing her tired eyes, Sherlock had already found ten more clues, including how many intruders (3), and their heights (5'7, 6'1, and 5,9).

"Oh no, what happened," She cried.

"There's been an intruder," Sherlock stated.

She let out distressed noises and walked around the flat, Sherlock and John letting her look around while they looked for more signs of Oscar.

John now stated the question that he really wanted to ask, "Did they take Oscar?"

"Unlikely, however I do believe Oscar got out. He might be lost, maybe he followed them like he followed me," Sherlock was speaking in his normal analyzing voice, but there was something off, like he felt genuine fear that Oscar was gone. It was so small that anyone else wouldn't notice. But John wasn't anyone else.

"We'll find him, right?" John said.

Sherlock didn't say anything, it was as if he was in a trance his eyes fixating on a small part of the carpet. He looked at it, then walked forward, leaning down and examining it closer. Two small drops of blood were stained into the carpet surrounded by fur. It was Oscars.

"He's not.." John's voice trailed off.

_It's just a cat, it's just a cat, _John thought to himself, but he couldn't help the sadness that was coming over him.

"No, a small wound," Sherlock said, "We'll find him."

"Where's Oscar?" Miss Hudson asked.

They didn't say anything, and in the silence Miss Hudson understood.

"I'll make some flyers, "She offered.

She went back to her flat and left the boys to do some more digging.

It occurred to John that he wasn't the only one who had grown attached to the small fur ball they called Oscar. Sherlock had taken a liking to that cat, had used him in his experiments, taught him to bring notes to people. Sherlock spent his time away from John with the cat, and maybe even though it was just a small fur ball, it had become more of comfort and a companion to both John and Sherlock, and this thought made John sad again, because instead of having hope to find Oscar, he felt loss.


End file.
